


The Thief of Ente Isla

by thisplaceisunfamiliar



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Fantasy, One Shot, Other, Short One Shot, Short Story, wrote this 2 years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplaceisunfamiliar/pseuds/thisplaceisunfamiliar
Summary: This was a short story I wrote way back in 2015 for an English class. Hope you enjoy it! And yes, I know I used 'Ente Isla' from the anime 'The Devil Is A Part-Timer'. I just couldn't think of any fantasy world names at the time.





	The Thief of Ente Isla

“Damn it…!” He cursed as he passed alleyways and sprinted down the street, barely missing the market stalls, shoving aside shaken townspeople of Ente Isla. Just when he had his sights on that lady’s pendant. It could’ve been worth at least 20 tenmas and more along with the rest of their stolen loot.  
“Stop right there!” Yelled one of the palace guards, waving his spear, armour rattling as he ran after him. More of them were right behind him. “Halt!”

The young man ran faster as they gained on him, his raven-black hair pulled back from the air rushing past as he ran. He glanced around, looking to expect one of his own to provide a distraction of some sort, but all he could see were merchants and children. Did he lose his pack? Why of course.

He had to improvise.

Turning sharply to his left, he spotted a stone pillar and hid behind it, unnoticed by the guards who passed by him. “Don’t let him get away!” They would yell. As soon as the last of the guards disappeared around the corner, he checked if the coast was clear. He let out a breath of relief, as there were none that he could see.  
Slipping out from behind the stone pillar, he continued on his search for his pack members, whilst keeping his guard up.

The thief walked around the flea markets and passed the beggars who were huddled together against the dirty walls and in dusty corners, ignored by onlookers who made faces of disgust and disdain. He used to be just like them. Used to.

He can remember the days where he would starve and wore only a ripped tunic and a musty undershirt, accompanied by pants and shoes like swiss cheese. Lice-infested and barely even bathing once a day at the least.

Now here he is, living on the edge, or as he thought to himself. He went by the name of Donovan, stealing things to survive in this unforgiving world, constantly on the run from the authorities. Fortunately, he banded together with other thieves and formed an infamous group: Lupus Fures, Latin for ‘Wolf Thieves’.

They were known as this, due to the way they would travel in a large pack and target areas with goods and riches. They were fierce and savage, moving with inhuman speed and would fight anyone who would dare defy them. They were most active from dusk to dawn, making them difficult to capture. They are scavengers.

Donovan was a mere subordinate compared to his pack leader, despite this, he was quick on his toes and would be loyal and merciless like the rest of them. But, he would often feel a sense of being trapped, always following orders and having to share his findings with the rest of his pack. He wanted to be free. A lone wolf, if you would.

Passing strangers as he walked through the street, he struck a realisation - this was a marvellous opportunity to feel freedom. Free to roam and take whatever he pleased, if he doesn’t get caught, of course.

“There he is!” He was spotted.  
He bolted off like a startled rabbit from a gunshot. Looks like he had to make an escape plan. He turned corners, winding around marketplaces and potteries, determined to find an alleyway where he would easily jump on a building and escape with a grin. He couldn’t wait to see their dumbfounded faces.

“Oof!” He collided with another body. He stumbled back and eyed a young woman on the ground. His fiery golden eyes met her clear emerald ones. She looked dazed, her chestnut hair lay disarranged over her face.

“Get him!” A palace guard yelled, running towards where he stood. He turned his head and frowned.  
The woman got to her feet, tucking her hair strands behind her ear. He had a plan.

In one swift movement, he spun around and unsheathed his switchblade, throwing it up and catching it mid-air. He seized the woman and pressed the blade against her bare throat. The guards halted their movement. They looked at the woman’s frightened eyes, then to the man’s unblinking ones. He had a menacing look, one that warned them to stay where they were and drop their weapons, or else she gets it.

Slowly, the guards lowered their weapons and as soon as the last spear touched the ground, he shoved the woman towards them and shot off like a bullet. Donovan could hear their shouts and footsteps, but he was already far ahead of them, closer and closer to freedom. He smirked.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this old short story I write 2 years ago, haha. Leave a kudos and comment if possible. ^^


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